The Day I Return to Myself


The day will arrive

when I no longer search for myself

in the faces of others,

when I do not beg the sky

for a sign to keep going.


I will come home,

dust on my feet, silence in my mouth,

and there I’ll be—waiting—

a younger me, tired,

but with light still in his eyes.


I’ll say,

Come in.

Sit for a while.

Let the shame fall from your shoulders.

Here’s water, warm and still.

Here’s rice, simple and soft.

Eat like you haven’t in years.


I will not ask why you left.

I’ll only hold your hand

and listen to all the words

you once whispered into pillows.


Then I’ll take the old notebooks,

those pages written in pain,

and read them aloud

like holy verses.


You’ll weep, maybe.

I’ll smile through it.


And before the night ends,

we will laugh.

Truly laugh.

Not because the world has changed,

but because

we’re finally together.


Sit.

Feast on your life.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Room Where I Wait

I sit in a room where nothing moves — except my breath and a small memory that knocks like a stranger. The fan hums like a prayer I never learned. The walls don’t talk, but they listen. More than anyone ever did. I don’t cry. I just sit. Like I’ve always done. Like the chair knows me better than my own hands. Some days, I think the light left me. But then a soft breeze touches my face and reminds me — I’m still here. I’m still here.
Read more

VOID

 Empty. Empty of mind. Empty of heart. Empty of everything. There’s nothing left in me. I want someone — anyone — to fill my heart with feeling. Any feeling. It doesn’t matter what kind. I just don’t want to feel… Empty. Because this emptiness reminds me — I’m not alone. I’m lonely. I walk through the dark night of this world, searching for something to hold. My hands — empty. Maybe there’s a torch in them. Maybe there’s a thought in my head. Maybe. Maybe. But I don’t feel it. I don’t see it. My mind — void. My heart — hollow. I stare at my book. My own heart, written across pages. Feelings live there — but not in me. I tear the pages. One by one. They remind me: ache. pain. memory. The paper makes a sound, like it wants to speak. But my heart doesn’t listen. My mind doesn’t care. I rip every page. Now, only nine white pages remain. And in my hand — a black pen. I grip it tightly. And I scribble: VOID.
Read more

"Look Into Your Soul, Ravi "

RAVI — LOOK INTO YOUR SOUL. Look into your mind.   Look into the veins that carry your blood.   Look at the life you're living.   Look at where you are.   What do you want?   Where do you want to go?   What do you want to create?   Ravi — every question leads to one truth:   You want to write.  You want to become a storyteller.   You want to show the world how you see it — raw, unfiltered, unapologetic.   One bad day, one downfall, won’t collapse your dream.   You’re too sensitive, yes — but that’s what makes you powerful.   You live in a dark room — but that room shaped you, carved you into this.   You’re not alone.   Look at the moon — it’s alone, but it still shines.   Look at the rising sun — it rises alone, but it still illuminates the world.   Nothing will stop you.   You think differently. You see differentl...
Read more